


Anniversary

by GamerMattJeevas (BrassOctopi)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, death of a child mentioned, there's a special place in hell for people like me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:52:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4253601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrassOctopi/pseuds/GamerMattJeevas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is no easy way to explain to Mother, they had decided during the first trip, that you have decided at five in the morning to visit your little sister’s grave with a bottle of sparkling grape juice. So they simply didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anniversary

“Gwen… Gwen, wake up.” The brunette teen groaned and pulled her pillow over her head. Miranda, all wide-eyes and tiny frame, frowned. She sat on her sister’s bed, thumping her on the back. “Gwen, come on. If you don’t get up, it’ll get hot, and Mom will want to come-”

 “ ‘M up,” Gwen mumbled instantly, pushing herself into a sitting position. She rubbed her eyes, yawning. The sun had yet to break over the horizon, but she forced herself to wake up. Nine year old Miranda, already decked in a black dress, shawl, and matching necklace, watched in solemn silence as her sister stood and pulled open her closet doors. “You got the juice, Mims?” the teen called behind her as she rifled through the closet. She passed by dresses and nice clothes, deciding real clothes were for formal events, not for grave visits in the wee hours of the morning.

 “Yes, Gwen,” Miranda responded, looking to a plastic bag that sat near the door. Gwen pulled a thin cardigan on over her tank top, knowing she wouldn’t need more than that on a July day in Denver.

 “Good girl.” She slipped on sandals, holding her hand up. Miranda obediently tossed a set of keys to her sister, who caught them effortlessly. They had, after all, been making this journey every month since Miranda could stand again, about six months past. Gwen finally turned to look at Miranda with a tight smile. “Let’s roll.”

 As quietly as they could, the two left the house, taking care not to wake their mother. There is no easy way to explain to Mother, they had decided during the first trip, that you have decided at five in the morning to visit your little sister’s grave with a bottle of sparkling grape juice. So they simply didn’t. Instead, Gwen turned the car to neutral, pushed it out of the driveway, and pushed it down the block before getting in and turning it on, Miranda tucked into the shotgun seat.

 

Miranda was fairly certain that Gwen’s driving could be considered a death-defying stunt. Every turn was sharp, every stop a sudden one. Gwen blamed her lack of official tutelage; Miranda wasn’t sure if it would make any difference. By the time they reached the cemetery in town, the younger girl’s knuckles were pure white, a feat against her already pale skin. There was a time when she was almost as tan as her sister, but months of keeping to her room all but erased it.

 Miranda pulled in laborious breaths, forcing air into her weak lungs. Gwen placed a hand on her sister’s back, looking worried. “Hey, Mims. You all right, sweetie?” Miranda glared, taking in a few more breaths before she felt able to reply.

 “You grazed a mailbox,” she accused, normally gentle voice raspy.

 “Oh. That.”

 “Yes, that.”

 “We drove away.” Miranda rolled her eyes, briefly considering strangling her sister. Instead, she pushed the door open and slipped out, black plastic bag clutched in one hand. Gwen followed suited, watching her with sharp blue eyes. The two were silent on the uphill walk to the family plot, which held generations of Charbonneaus before them.

 One small marble grave, emblazoned with a large heart, was better kept than the others. Block letters solemnly proclaimed

 

**Vivian Bianca Charbonneau**

**May 12, 1992 – June 16, 1998**

**Beloved Daughter, Cherished Sister**

  **Gone but not Forgotten**

 

A perfectly cliché headstone for a perfectly original girl. Gwen hated it, which is why she had added “Here lies Vivi, lover of grapes and hater of zucchini, the most beautiful of the Charbonneau girl trilogy” to the back, using a chisel and a lot of free time.

 They sat on Gwen’s side of the grave, Mims using her shawl to cover the ground before sitting down daintily, Gwen dropping cross-legged to the dirt unceremoniously beside her. Miranda pulled out the glass bottle of sparkling grape juice, raising it with the most somber expression Gwen had ever seen on a nine year old.

 “To Vivi,” Miranda said, Gwen echoing after. The younger cracked the seal on the bottle, pouring a measure on the grave before offering it to Gwen. She took it and drank, briefly wishing it was wine instead. But she had a sister to drive home, and since her driving already left something to be desired, she supposed it wouldn’t have been worth the risk. She handed it back and tossed her cardigan at Miranda before lying down in the grass, the dew soaking into her tanktop.

 She closed her eyes, listening to the crickets quiet song and leaves rustling in the morning wind. She could hear Miranda’s labored breath – just like all the times before, she would need to carry Miranda back to the car. Just like all the times before, she would fend off their mother from waking up Miranda until at least noon.

 For a single moment, she was certain she heard Vivian’s laughter echoing off the cemetery trees, and the entire trip was worth it.


End file.
